


Holding On

by ClexaFitch



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Coming of Age, F/F, Multi, Romance, Teen Angst, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-11 13:50:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7895071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClexaFitch/pseuds/ClexaFitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven years on from a cold night at a football game in her sophomore year, Clarke Griffin is suffering from the pain of unrequited love and attempting to make sense of it all. To understand where it all went wrong. And to understand how she once again let Lexa Woods, the love of her life, slip through her fingers... just when she realised she would never hold on to anything else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Cold Winter's Night

“Clarke Griffin in love.”

Hm. Perhaps not.

“Love: The Clarke Griffin Story.”

That might be worse… Yep. Definitely worse.

“The story of how Clarke Griffin fell in love with the most amazing woman in the world.”

Too full on. And too cheesy.

Ok. How about I just start this, sans lame title? That would save everyone some pain, I think.

So, I’ll just start. I’ll start by telling you that I’m going to tell you a story. A story about love. A story about two women and love. A story about two women and unrequited love.

Though, I want to make very clear: this story is not being told in an attempt to gain your sympathy. Nor is it an attempt to acquire your assurances. I am telling this story for the simple reason that I need to. And fine, yes… maybe a little bit for the sympathy. But unrequited love sucks, ok? Just ask Romeo. Before the whole… you know… _requited_ love thing with that chick Juliet. But that wasn’t even a major part of the play, so it’s totally irrelevant anyway. Just forget about that part. The important part is the _unrequited_ love. Let’s focus on that.

And listen, I know there are worse things that could happen. There are people out there who are truly suffering in awful ways. Some who desperately wish that it was simply something as minor as unrequited love that was causing their heart to break. Better to have loved and lost? Perhaps not. So this story will also not be one of self-pity. Nor will it be one of self-deprecation, self-sacrifice or self-righteousness. That is to say, at no point will I feign ignorance at the possibility of returned feelings. At no point will I play the martyr in “a love story greater than my own”. And at no point will I attempt to convince you that I am totally exempt of blame. None of these are true. I’m tired of playing the victim, or the martyr, or the naïve. And I refuse to patronise you. So this story – the story of how I, Clarke Griffin, fell agonisingly, beautifully, suddenly, steadily, daringly, cowardly in love with Lexa Woods – will be told with complete disclosure, complete awareness and, for once in my life, complete honesty.

But I’ve rambled on, and perhaps revealed too much.

Before I begin, and in the spirit of my new commitment to keeping promises, full disclosure must be given in telling you that my memory is unfortunately not impressive enough to remember the exact details of the past seven years. And, even more unfortunately, those seven years were criminally not video-documented, à la The Hills (MTV apparently wasn’t interested). Furthermore, I regretfully do not have the patience to relay every single second of the past seven years of my life to you. For those of you bitterly disappointed: rest assured, no amount of wit or use of metaphor could make my relatively unglamorous adolescence – of squeezing spots and crying at The O.C. – any more titillating than it already, assuredly, was not.

Yet, while I cannot promise complete accuracy, or a full and meticulous account of the last seven years of my life, I can promise authenticity. And I can promise that this story will disclose every significant conversation, every pivotal touch, and every crucial glance of the most drastically important seven years of my life.

And so, finally, let’s begin.

It all started one cold winter’s night…

(No, really. It did…)

***

“Jesus fucking Christ, my damn nipples are about to fall off they’re that fucking cold,” Jasper said, exasperated. “Do we really have to be watching this ridiculous joke of a sport?”

Rolling her eyes, Octavia darted her fingers towards Jasper’s chest, tugging roughly at said body part.

“Ow!” Jasper exclaimed, lurching back and swatting the offending hands away.

“They seem pretty attached to me,” Octavia smirked. Scowling, Jasper reluctantly returned his attention to the football game.

“I just don’t see _why_ we’re here. I mean, as much as I _love_ seeing Bellamy get knocked on his ass every couple of minutes, and the cheerleaders are great; they really are… all that twirling? Are you kidding me?! Groundbreaking stuff. Truly. But the thing is, well… you see… I am _freezing_ ; I’m bored out of my mind; and now my nipples really fucking hurt for some reason. So I guess what I’m trying to say is: that I would _literally_ rather be anywhere else in the world right now than at this _stupid ass motherfucking football game_.”

Monty laughed; I smiled; Octavia maintained her bored expression.

“Are you done?” she deadpanned. Jasper huffed in exasperation at her, but seemed pleased with himself as he once again turned his attention to the field.

Meanwhile, I too gave the field my full attention once more. However, mine, like Jasper’s and presumably Monty’s too, was focused not on the football players prancing about on the field doing god knows what, but on the cheerleaders prancing about on the side of the field doing what I seemed to know too well. For I, too, was lukewarm, at best, about football. But my opinions of the cheerleading squad were certainly heated. The reason why, however, was one I was adamantly in denial about. I brushed my interest off as admiration. As a desire to be one of them; to look like them; to move like them. I now know better.

Yet, for the past couple of weeks, my attentions toward the cheerleading squad had been focused primarily on one cheerleader in particular. This one cheerleader that I simply “admired” above the rest; I just wanted to look and move like her more than I did the others, that was all. Her name was Lexa Woods. She was a sophomore, like myself, and achingly beautiful. She was tall, but not too tall; athletic but not too athletic; confident but not too confident. Her long brown hair was always perfect, and her smile really was beautiful. I know it’s cliché, but there’s no other way to explain it than to say that when she smiled, her whole face would light up. But it was her eyes, in particular, that I was drawn to when she smiled; her face would soften, while her eyes seemed to shine. The same eyes that were the most beautiful shade of green that I had ever seen… from six metres away.

But never any closer than six metres away.

Because Lexa Woods had absolutely no idea who Clarke Griffin was.

And I, too, had absolutely no idea who Lexa Woods was. Or, at least, not nearly as much as I wanted to.

She had been the object of my lust (though I did not yet know it) for weeks after she first arrived at Arkadia High, and I was without question attracted to her (though I did not know that either). Yet, past her appearance I knew little about her. I knew she had transferred from Grounder High. I knew she was damned good at cheerleading, but I also knew that she hadn’t fully integrated into Arkadia. I knew that I wanted to be friends with her, but I knew that the prospect terrified me, for reasons I only now know. From classes that we shared, I knew that I loved hearing her voice. But I also knew that I hated hearing it because it would occasionally send an inexplicable shiver down my spine. I knew that she was confident, and intelligent, and possibly everything that I wanted to be and pretended to be, but wasn’t.

I knew that it wasn’t enough. I knew that I needed to know more; that I needed to know _her._

And it was on that day, at that football game on that cold winter’s night, with Jasper hugging his nipples, and Octavia scowling, and Monty laughing, and me smiling, as the snow started to fall around us while the wind bit at my cheeks and the frost nipped at my nose: I finally knew more.

But it was then that I also knew I would never fully know her.


	2. I Dare You

The football game ended in defeat for Arkadia High, and a tactless cheer from Jasper when the whistle blew prompted looks of disgust from our fellow home fans around us. Wanting to avoid the wrath of said fans, I feigned bitter disappointment but, in truth, my only disappointment came from seeing the cheerleading squad disappear down the tunnel towards the changing rooms.

With numb fingers I waved at Bellamy as he too made his way towards the changing rooms, offering him an understanding look that was half smile, half frown. He simply returned my wave with a nod. Arkadia High was well acquainted with defeat when it came to football, but Bellamy’s proud and sensitive nature meant that he took the losses harder than most. There was something endearing in that for me: the way that he put his whole heart into every game despite the tempting cynicism of those around him.

Yet, while I loved and admired this quality of Bellamy’s, I loathed the result. For the problem with putting your whole heart into something is that what you receive back is always a hundredfold. Something I would come to know too well.

For Bellamy, this meant that his unwavering optimism and determination resulted in an even stronger frustration and exhaustion with every defeat. And his ensuing bad moods were… challenging, to say the least.

These bad moods made someone I enjoyed being around, difficult to be around. Someone who was usually fun and positive became a stranger in this regard. But the biggest problem of all was that these moods were so affecting that I too became one of those tempting cynics. I often wondered why he gave so much when the likely— no, _probable_ result was one of extreme frustration and disappointment.

Although never voiced, when I became aware of a certain period after a defeat, I began to suspect that all those who knew Bellamy shared these same feelings on the matter. A widespread contagion of forgetfulness seemed to descend upon the group during this period, in which Bellamy seemed to be the only cure. With Bellamy’s arrival came the sudden realisation that unfinished homework had been forgotten; band practice forgotten; collecting grandmothers from halfway across town, forgotten. I realised the correlation soon after I began to seriously worry that Jasper’s 90-year-old grandmother was more socially active than me.

The number of supporters in the stands also slowly dwindled after caving to the cynicism that Bellamy impressively evaded.

Octavia, Jasper, Monty and I remained. Out of loyalty. Pity. Love. And you already know that I may have had some other reasons.

And so the four of us, on this cold winter’s night, began to descend the bleachers as I battled with my understanding for Bellamy’s inevitable sour mood, and my annoyance at having to be understanding at all. Why did he insist on being such an angst-filled teenager?

I was scowling at the thought as I glanced to my right and noticed Octavia’s facial expression mirroring my own.

“Another loss for Arkadia High; another _thrilling_ weekend in the Blake household,” Jasper taunted, having also noticed. Octavia shot him a glare as Jasper grinned, happy to have finally gotten under her skin.

“Why are you still here?” She questioned, maintaining her glare.

“Well I was going to search for my fallen nipples back there, but winding Bellamy up to the point of explosion seems like more fun.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Octavia growled, advancing on Jasper. “You know damn well that I have to live with him all weekend,” she continued to advance as Jasper backed away slightly, his grin flickering, “and if I find out that you’ve done _anything_ to make my weekend anything but smiles and sunshine…” finally reaching him, she entered his space and appeared to tower over him despite her much smaller height, letting her threat hang for a few tense seconds.

Suddenly, her hand shot out and ruffled Jasper’s hair, causing him to jump in fright. She grinned at Monty and me, before turning back to Jasper.

“Christ! Don’t be so jumpy Jas,” she mocked. Jasper laughed shakily along with us, but made no further suggestions of antagonising Bellamy.

“Well now that that’s been cleared up, I’d better go and offer my condolences for the terrible loss,” I deadpanned. “I’ll see you guys on Monday. You coming O?”

With a wave at Jasper and Monty, and one last warning look from Octavia to the former, we reluctantly made our way to the changing rooms.

“Jasper’s right, you know… I’m really not looking forward to this weekend,” Octavia groaned. “But seriously! Does Bellamy even try to be in a good mood anymore? How the fuck can you lose 62-10? That has to be the worst game yet…”

She continued to ramble about how awfully Arkadia had played while I offered little more than nods and hums of agreement. In truth, I had had absolutely no idea what the score had been, nor could I offer any commentary on how well either team had played. My attentions had been elsewhere, though I had little desire to inform Octavia of this. She didn’t need to know that my admiration and envy of the cheerleading squad superseded my swooning over the football team. It wasn’t important. It was normal to be curious. And envious. Don’t forget the envious part.

As we reached the doors to the gym, which held the basketball court and the changing rooms, Octavia took a dramatic breath in as though she were a warrior preparing for battle.

“Don’t be such a drama queen,” I laughed, shaking my head.

“That’s easy for you to say. He’s so much grumpier to me than he is to you, Princess Clarke.”

I scoffed. “I’m calling bullshit here, pal. If there’s anyone more willing to call him out on his self-pitying, brooding act than I am, it’s you.”

“Hmm, well… That doesn’t mean that it’s any less annoying when he walks around the house pouting all the time.”

“But,” I grabbed her arm, looking her right in the eyes with a concerned expression, “how else is he going to perfect ‘Magnum’?”

I gave an exaggerated pout and Octavia laughed as she opened the gym doors. Continuing to joke about how dark and wounded Bellamy was, we made our way to sit by our usual spot at the side of the basketball court as we waited for him to emerge from the changing rooms.

As we did so, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that a few of the cheerleaders were emerging instead. As always, however, my eyes stayed trained on Octavia lest she suspect that something was amiss. For although I had convinced myself that there was nothing for her to suspect anyway, this feigned disinterest had become ingrained in me.

So it was because of this that I didn’t realise she was approaching until it was too late. Too late for what, I wasn’t sure.

“Octavia. Hey.”

I turned towards the voice that I had only heard in the handful of classes we shared. The same voice that sometimes sent that irksome thrill down my spine. It was because of her diction, I had reasoned. It was a controlled and rhythmic level of enunciation that I rarely heard in the hallways of Arkadia High and, simply put, I liked it. It was a nice change from all the social conformity that I experienced every day.

This voice belonged to – you guessed it – Lexa Woods. The same cheerleader I had been enthusiastically _admiring_ not twenty minutes ago.

But she was closer than 6 metres now. She had changed out of her cheerleader outfit and was quickly approaching us. Her long bare legs, now covered in shorts, took long strides to close the distance, and I suddenly found myself struggling to direct my eyes elsewhere. Feigning disinterest soon became a lot harder when the subject of my interest was getting steadily closer.

Nevertheless, it was a curveball I swiftly dealt with. Nonchalance had become a skill I had long mastered, and my surprise at having Lexa Woods approach us was quickly masked with neutrality and a normal level of interest. Still, when she finally stood before us, I took advantage of the new proximity and scanned her face with an undetected urgency. With a surprising level of exasperation, I noted that she was infinitely more beautiful up close. _There goes my hopes of true disinterest_ , I thought to myself worriedly.

Her hair remained tied in its ponytail, allowing me to admire the sharp angles of her face and her tanned skin. Her skin was annoyingly perfect, and I found myself lamenting over my paleness and occasional outbreak of spots. Yet, like every time before, it was her eyes that I found my gaze constantly returning to. I had long acknowledged that the shade of green was one so rare and so beautifully contrasted to her tanned skin that, from an aesthetic point of view, would have attracted any sensible artist. But it was the multitude of emotions that I could now see in them that suddenly attracted _me_. They made her seem experienced yet innocent, wise yet naïve, strong yet vulnerable. They made me long to know everything about her.

Or maybe I’m simply filling in the blanks with what I know now. But what I can tell you, with total certainty, is that when those eyes locked with mine for the first time, as she stood before Octavia and I by the side of the basketball court, I knew then, absolutely and completely, that this girl was going to be important in my life.

“Oh, hey Lexa,” Octavia replied with a smile. It was when Lexa smiled at me in greeting that our eyes locked and this realisation of her importance in my life hit me without mercy. The shock of it almost winded me and I quickly averted my gaze, becoming uncomfortable with Lexa’s presence and this unwelcome realisation that had come with it. I began to inwardly panic, which led to confusion about why I was panicking which, in turn, led to further panicking. My casual mask of disinterest barely slipped however, and I soon commenced the surreptitious scanning of Lexa’s face and memorisation of her perfect features. In an envious way. Nothing more.

Suddenly I desperately wished I had made more of an effort with my appearance, but passed it off as insecurity in the face of someone so physically perfect.

“Were you at the game?” Lexa asked, graciously directing the question at both of us so as not to leave me out.

“Yes, unfortunately. My brother’s the quarterback,” Octavia explained.

“Oh, Bellamy? That sucks.”

I laughed, drawing her attention and causing her to blush as she realised what she had said.

“Oh! No! Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m sure he’s a great brother. I just meant from what I hear about him being a total nightmare,” she said, tripping over her words in her haste.

Her blush deepened as I laughed again and Octavia’s eyebrow quirked. It was cute.

“No! Fucking hell,” she murmured to herself, “I meant after a defeat… everyone says that he gets into a really bad mood, and turns into a bit of a nightmare. But I’m sure he’s a delight otherwise.”

“So you’ve been gossiping about him behind his back with everyone?” I accused. Her eyes widened slightly in alarm.

“What? No! I would never bitch about someone behind their—“

Her eyes narrowed in faux-annoyance and her face relaxed as she realised I was grinning at her; my eyes alight with mischief. One side of her mouth quirked up in a half-smile that I decided I liked.

“Ah. Okay, ha-ha. You got me…?”

“Clarke,” I finished for her, with a smirk.

“Clarke.”

The way she held my gaze as she said my name started the panic again. I felt as though it was something I had been longing to hear for weeks, and I hadn’t even known it. It was just her diction, I repeated to myself over and over again. My smirk never faltered for a second.

“Well yes; it does suck, to be honest,” Octavia said, stealing Lexa’s attention, “and a ‘nightmare’ would be an understatement. He’s a total fucking Leonardo-DiCaprio-style-nightmare-within-a-nightmare-within-a-nightmare-within-a- _fucking-_ nightmare, moody, miserable, melodramatic—“

“Bellamy!” I exclaimed, waving at Bellamy as he emerged from the changing rooms, successfully cutting off her increasingly louder and increasingly scarier rant before he was in earshot.

Lexa laughed, half-nervously, clearly not expecting such an explosive reaction. I rolled my eyes at Octavia and shot Lexa an amused smile before reluctantly turning my attention to Bellamy.

As always, Octavia was the first of us to stand up and close the distance towards him. For despite her (frequent) profanity-filled rants of rage about her brother, she loved him more than anyone in the world. The same was true for Bellamy and he saw his younger sister (of only a year, as Octavia often reminded) as someone he needed to always protect, even from himself (even though she was more than capable of protecting herself, which she also often reminded). Which is why she was better than anyone at handling his bad moods and, despite her incessant taunting, was often the one to drag him back to the Bellamy we loved.

Yes, it’s true: we actually loved him.

No, really, I swear.

I realise that I’ve painted a rather bleak and infuriating picture of Bellamy thus far, but in truth he was the best person I knew (when he wasn’t emulating Ebenezer Scrooge in the short period after a defeat, that is). For the most part, he was generous, kind, funny, sweet, and incredibly loyal. Yes, he could be a bit of an idiot at times but his heart was always in the right place. And that was the best thing about him. He thought with his heart, and not with his head; he acted on emotions rather than logic. It was occasionally messy and often maddening, but it was also sort of beautiful in its innocence. The way that he was constantly buzzing with emotion – something about that was magnetising. Sometimes it was intense. Sometimes it was _painful_ to see someone feel so much, yet express so little. But most of the time it was electrifying. This empathetic, emotional, erratic boy was someone that I loved more than most, and it pretty much erased the few negatives that came with it.

It was this that I was reminded of when Bellamy met my eyes from metres away and offered me a defeated smile. Even from that distance I could see the emotions displayed so openly on his face. The rawness of it jarred me like it often did and I swiftly turned my cool and casual expression to Lexa once more.

“Sorry about that. Octavia loves him really.”

“Clearly,” Lexa responded sarcastically.

“In her defence, he _can_ be a total pain in the ass and he’s a moody fuck sometimes-“

“Please, don’t you start as well,” Lexa interrupted, half-jokingly.

“ _But_ ,” I continued, laughing, “he’s actually sort of great most of the time. And they really do love each other… Though they’d never admit it of course.” I smiled over at them as I watched Octavia stand on her tiptoes to ruffle his hair and pinch his cheeks as he attempted to push her away; he was scowling but there was a fondness in his eyes. It was hard to push Octavia away.

“Well they wouldn’t be doing the whole ‘sibling’ thing right if they did,” she replied.

“Yeah. I mean, they’re already far too nice to each other. Octavia’s rant earlier?” I scoffed. “Lost her touch, if you ask me.”

Lexa smiled. I had already decided that I liked her smile from afar (that sounded far creepier than I had intended), but up close it only strengthened my thoughts on the subject. Her smile brightened her eyes so significantly that I had soon tasked myself with finding out just how wide her smile had to be before her eyes became blinding. I smiled back, finding myself excited by the project.

“Clarke!” Octavia called, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Bellamy and I are going to start walking to the car. Do you need a ride, Lexa?”

“Oh, no thanks, I’ve got my car. I’ll walk out with you guys, though.”

With a nod from Octavia, she and Bellamy began walking to the car park as Lexa and I followed.

“So how do you know Octavia?” I asked, facing forwards as we walked and bracing myself for the sharp winds before stepping out into the cold January night.

“We sit next to each other in a few classes.”

“And you didn’t know that her brother was the Grinch of Arkadia?”

“I only transferred after the holidays. I don’t pay much attention to the Grinch after Christmas.” I chuckled at that. It was a lame joke, but they were always my favourite kind. “And I suppose I haven’t spoken to all that many people yet. Octavia included.” She paused before continuing: “I guess you could say I’m ‘shy’,” she said, using air-quotes and rolling her eyes.

“Well you don’t seem shy,” I challenged.

“Well maybe you bring it out in me,” she returned, not missing a beat.

I glanced at her for the first time since leaving the gym and saw that she had already been looking at me. There was something in her expression that made me nervous, as though she was daring me. To do what, I didn’t know.

So, of course, I laughed nervously instead and promptly changed the subject:

“How are you not freezing your ass off?” I asked, gesturing to her bare legs.

“I was wearing less out on the field—”

 _I noticed,_ I thought.

“—And I tend to work up quite a sweat as well.”

_Yep. Noticed that too._

“That makes sense,” I nodded. “I should probably take this scarf off, to be honest. I worked up quite the sweat myself with all my own _cheering._ All that jumping up and down really takes it out of you, am I right?” I mocked.

She gasped dramatically, clutching at her chest in horror. “Cheerleading is far more than just jumping up and down, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked, doubtful.

“Yep. You have to be able to spell too.”

“That’s very true,” I laughed. “Clearly I’ve underestimated your abilities as a cheerleader.”

“Eh,” she shrugged. “I’m used to it,” she said cryptically. “So, hey, I was trying to think where I recognised you from…?”

“Probably from class. We have English and Social Studies together.”

“Ah, so you noticed me then?” she asked cockily, eyebrow raised in yet another challenge.

“It’s a small school. Everyone notices the new kid,” I lied calmly.

“Right,” she blushed, as we reached Octavia and Bellamy stood by Octavia’s car.

“Oh Bell, this is Lexa. We sit next to each other in our Science classes,” Octavia explained.

“And French,” Lexa added.

“Oh, yeah. And French.”

I was pleasantly surprised by this new information about her; something about Lexa speaking French was extremely appealing to me.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Lexa said to Bellamy.

Bellamy managed to reply with an unconvincing “you too” before addressing me for the first time today.

“So that was pretty shitty, huh?”

“You played amazingly,” I replied diplomatically.

“Not amazingly enough apparently.”

“Bellamy, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that you can’t carry a whole team,” I said, exasperatedly. “No one can. No matter how well they play.”

I watched him as he gritted his teeth. It wasn’t enough for him. He didn’t want to be part of the collective “they”. He truly believed that _he could_ carry a whole team, but he just wasn’t giving enough. I was afraid that soon there’d be nothing left.

This fear, and my anguish at seeing someone I loved so deeply this distressed, led me to reach out for his hand and interlock our fingers. I squeezed his hand to let him know that I was there, and I watched as every part of him visibly relaxed before he smiled at me in thanks and acknowledgement of the gesture.

“Ugh, come on you two,” Octavia groaned. “Let’s go before I have to suffer through anymore PDA.”

“So I’m not even allowed to hold my girlfriend’s hand now?” Bellamy grumbled.

I couldn’t help but glance at Lexa. I hadn’t mentioned to her that I was dating the star (?) quarterback of Arkadia High, but why would I? It didn’t come up and I thought she probably knew already; it was a small school. Her surprised and confused expression, however, told me that she didn’t and I wondered why I was disappointed that I found nothing else on her face.

“Hand-holding is fine,” Octavia said. “The lingering looks of love, however, are vomit-inducing.”

“There were no ‘lingering looks of love’.”

“There definitely were.”

“No, there weren’t.”

“Okay. Whatever you say, Romeo.”

I could see Bellamy getting agitated so I squeezed his hand again. “Really Octavia?” I sighed. “You were just threatening Jasper about this very thing, not half an hour ago.”

“Yeah, but that’s Jasper,” she smirked.

“Right. Well I’m fucking freezing so can we continue this in the car? Or, like, maybe not? That would be great.” I turned to Lexa, smiling apologetically. “Sorry about that. Again.”

“It’s fine,” she chuckled. “It’s entertaining actually.”

“That’s optimistic.” I said, looking back at the Blake siblings who had resumed their squabbling. “I’d better go and issue some timeouts,” I sighed. “But I’ll see you in class on Monday?”

“I’ll see you there, Clarke.”

With that, she said goodbye to Octavia and Bellamy and, with a smile, turned and made her way across the parking lot to her car.

I watched with envy in my eyes as her long, toned legs brought this beautiful girl further and further away from me, with a sway in her hips and elegance in her stride.

I was still watching when she suddenly turned around to face me and began walking backwards. And she must have seen something other than envy in my eyes, for as soon as they locked with her own, a dangerous grin broke out across her face and set her green eyes alight. Those green eyes were brighter than I had yet seen them and, fascinated by their expressiveness and transfixed by one expression in particular, I felt a slight shiver run down my spine. It was an expression that she had already directed my way in the short time that I had known her, and one that she would direct my way for years to come. But it was on this occasion that my sense of both fear and excitement as a result of this expression was inevitable as well as justified, for it was the turning point. I knew it then as much as I know it now. This expression?

_I dare you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have a really good outline of where I want this story to go (I spent about 3 hours the other night mapping everything out), and I'm hoping it's gonna be really good and something a bit different! I hope you can stick with me though because it is likely to be long and drawn out but (hopefully!) worth it.
> 
> Also any comments, constructive criticism, etc. are more than welcome because this is the first fic that I've ever written, and really my first piece of creative writing in general. So any comments would be very much appreciated!
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)
> 
> Love, clexafitch xxx


	3. Electricity

The weekend following the game was an uneventful one. Like most post-game weekends, I spent most of my time at the Blake household, attempting to distract and cheer Bellamy up, and thus minimise the time that we all had to unwillingly spend encircled by his dark cloud of angst and frustration. Jasper and Monty often joked that Octavia and I were true heroes for our generation but, in truth, it mostly just involved a lot of sex from my end and a lot of hard-truths from Octavia’s end: and as a hormonal sixteen-year-old, I certainly wasn’t complaining about my role.

  
However, that’s not to say that it was a total walk in the park; sometimes it would take days and days and Bellamy had still not gotten out of his slump. Sometimes he was just so unbearable that I simply couldn’t take it anymore and abandoned Octavia; something I would always feel bad about, but not bad enough to return. But I’ve already detailed the very strong and negative affects of Bellamy’s mood on those surrounding him, so I’ll refrain from any repetitiveness. And besides I have to concede that, with every defeat, it took less and less time for him to return to his normal and loveable self. So, for the most part, these weekends were generally spent laughing, playing video games and eating a hell of a lot of junk food. Not to mention that Bellamy and Octavia’s mom, being a single parent, worked nights and weekends. Fun, friends, food and no parent-supervision: what more could anyone want? Hence, by the end of most of these weekends, Bellamy would be back to the boy that I loved and everyone praised Octavia and I for our heroism; praise that we gladly accepted. For we, and everyone else, knew that we were the only two people in the world who could drag Bellamy back to earth so quickly. There was a sense of pride in that for me. Yet, occasionally – very occasionally – there was a sense of entrapment in it for me too.

***

Bellamy and Octavia picked me up that Monday morning as they did every school morning: parked outside of my house in their blue Ford Fiesta, bickering over the radio station, and being entirely too loud for almost seven thirty in the morning. Despite my frequent, and often pleading, requests that they try not to act like five-year-olds so early in the morning – or, better yet, don’t talk at all so early in the morning – this was how they always greeted me. I’d become fond of it in a way. In another way, it drove me up the fucking wall.

“Can you two please stop?” I growled from the backseat, after enduring ten minutes of this bickering accompanied by a tour of all of the radio stations in Massachusetts.

“Oooooh. Someone’s cranky this morning,” Octavia lilted.

“And that’s what you think is a safe thing to say to a cranky person in the morning? Really?” I asked, incredulously.

“Oh no! It looks like cranky-pants in the backseat didn’t get her full ten hours last night! Poor cranky-pants,” Bellamy mocked, in a babying voice.

“Ugh. You two are the worst,” I grumbled, pulling my beanie all the way over my head to block out the sounds of their laughter, “you’re not even original.”

They continued on in this vain for the rest of the drive to school, laughing at their own ridiculous sense of humour. Meanwhile I continued to roll my eyes and huff, feigning irritation, whilst the radio station stayed unchanged for the remainder of the journey.

***

As with the journey to it, that morning of school went much the same as all my other sophomore mornings. Bellamy walked Octavia and I to our lockers, joked and smiled with me as I got my books for my first two periods, and kissed me goodbye before Octavia and I went to our homeroom and he, as a Junior, went to his.

  
Only, this morning was slightly different to the rest. This morning, I had English second period. And the knowledge that I had English second period was something that I had been thinking about intermittently all weekend; and it definitely wasn’t because we were starting Dante that week. For, you see, this knowledge that I had English second period was something that I had been thinking about intermittently over the weekend because of an image that had burned itself into my brain. More specifically, a look that had burned itself into my brain: a terrifyingly thrilling look: a terrifyingly thrilling look from a terrifyingly thrilling girl. Throughout the weekend, this look had presented itself in my mind whilst we were watching a movie; sometimes when I was having a shower; sometimes, even, as I was falling asleep with Bellamy curled up behind me, lightly snoring, with his arm across my middle. It was a look that I was deeply struggling with. Struggling to get out of my mind, struggling to understand, struggling to deal with. So, each time, I would force it out; I would avoid it. As the expert that I was at doing this, this was largely successful; this look was banished to the outskirts of my mind – to the darkest depths, with all the other unwanted thoughts and looks and emotions. But still it lurked, menacingly, dangerously.

Thus, it was with this image – this look – dancing at the edges of my mind, that I climbed out of the Blake’s blue Ford Fiesta that Monday into the crisp morning air. And it was with this image – this look – dancing at the edges of my mind, that as soon as my feet connected with the school grounds, a quiet hum began to buzz through me; as though a small electric current was running through the earth, to my feet, up through my body, through my chest and around again, circulating within me. It was a nearly undetectable current. But it was very much present, nonetheless.

What was not present, however – and, indeed, what was rarely ever present in my case – was acknowledgement. Like the look, like the unwanted thoughts and emotions, I dismissed this muted hum of electricity coursing through me, explaining it away as I always did. I was just in a good mood that was all. I was feeling buzzed from my fun weekend with Bellamy and Octavia. I was feeling relieved and happy that Bellamy wasn’t feeling miserable anymore. I was simply feeling optimistic about Dante’s ‘Inferno’ because, hey, maybe it wouldn’t be as long as they say it is.

The only problem with that, however, is that seven years later, and that current still seems to get stronger every day. Whereas it was only a few hours later before I realised that Dante’s ‘Inferno’ is, in fact, as long as they say it is.

***

As it got closer and closer to second period English, it was getting harder and harder to ignore why I was feeling somewhat anxious so that, eventually, I had to concede that it was because of Lexa. I was just intrigued by her (which was totally normal) and I was feeling anxious about befriending her (which was also totally normal). She seemed cool on Friday and she’d piqued my interest ever since she arrived a few weeks ago, so why not befriend her? I’d always been one for mysteries and she certainly seemed like one.

So I was just worried, that was all. Worried that maybe she didn’t share these interests. That maybe she wouldn’t even remember me at all… oh god, what if she didn’t remember me? This concern had just popped into my head as I sat in my English room, waiting for the rest of the class to arrive whilst I chewed on my bottom lip; a bad habit that I still have yet to kick.  
Jasper and I were always early for English because we always had Math immediately before it, and Mr Hardy always let us go ten minutes early. I never knew if he was just being nice or if he genuinely thought that that was when first period ended, but I suspected it was the latter and nobody ever corrected him. It meant that we could stand by our lockers for a few minutes before arriving to our English class early to get the seats at the back of the room, where Miss Melville was less likely to notice us talking or, as was common in my case – and especially on a Monday morning – sleeping.

Though I definitely wouldn’t be sleeping on that Monday morning. For, as we know, I was feeling uncharacteristically awake that Monday morning as I awaited the arrival of ‘Lexa Woods: cheerleader, new girl and daring-look-giver’. But we were steadfastly ignoring that last part. Yet, to look at me, it would have been nearly impossible to detect a sense of unease. After all, I was ‘Clarke Griffin: master of cool exteriors, nonchalance and blasé attitudes’. My only tell – and, indeed, my only tell that morning as well – was my penchant for gnawing on my bottom lip. Like I said: it was a bad habit.

Thus, while I was feeling anxious about her arrival, I also had a calming sense of confidence within me. It was the type of quiet confidence that you can only get from hiding behind the comforting invulnerability of a mask, and it was a confidence that I enjoyed often.

After five minutes of pretending to listen to Jasper talk about his weekend; and five minutes of gnawing on my bottom lip; and five minutes of busying myself with my books before class started… she finally walked through the door and into the room. Unsurprisingly, she looked as amazing as usual – better than usual, even. She was wearing an oversized red and blue plaid shirt with a grey t-shirt underneath, along with black skinny jeans and black converse, while her long brown hair was down with a Dodgers baseball cap on top. I remember thinking then that she was the coolest and most beautiful person I had ever met, and I suddenly felt stupid for putting more time into my outfit and appearance that morning when she was so effortless. Even now I feel cheated by her; she never went through the awkward adolescent stage, but instead went straight to being cool and assured at the age of sixteen. That has to be against some sort of rule, right?

Almost as soon as I had taken in her appearance and began to feel self-conscious about my own, her eyes found mine and she smiled brightly at me, lifting her head slightly in greeting. For fuck’s sake, I thought, even her greeting is cool. And so with her outfit and her smooth greeting and her goddamn Dodgers cap, I found my cool confidence slipping somewhat as I panicked and waved at her entirely too enthusiastically, mouthing ‘hey’ as she walked towards me.

“You know, I was like three feet away from you and the classroom really isn’t that loud so you probably could have just said ‘hey’ instead of mouthing it,” she smirked, standing in front of my table.

“Right, but that might have misled you into thinking that I wasn’t actually a total dork,” I returned, cheeks pinking slightly. She laughed and was about to say something back when Miss Melville walked in and told everyone to take his or her seats.

“Speak to you later, Clarke,” she smiled, before walking away and taking her usual seat a few rows ahead.

“Since when are you friends with Lexa Woods?” Jasper asked across from me.

“Since Friday,” I replied, smiling at his use of the term ‘friends’. “We met after the football game when O and I were waiting for Bellamy; she’s friends with Octavia.”

“Well then, seen as how you’re best buds now, do you think you could help a guy out with a bit of wing-manning? Because she is insanely hot and-“

“Mr Jordan,” Miss Melville called, thankfully cutting Jasper off. “Would you kindly keep your conversations with Miss Griffin to outside of the classroom and, perhaps, you might then actually pay attention in this class for once.”

“Yes, miss. Sorry,” Jasper smiled. “I promise to pay attention for once.”

The class laughed and Miss Melville groaned and continued with the lesson, used to it by now.

Jasper didn’t keep his promise. He instead spent the majority of the period trying to convince me to set him up with Lexa, which I eventually agreed to, if only to shut him up.

The following day went much the same, apart from the fact that I was feeling distinctly less nervous and slightly excited about my final period English class. As always, Lexa arrived after me. And, as always, she looked incredible. However, unlike always, she walked towards me again before class, and I found myself hoping that that too would become an ‘as always’.

“Hey,” I greeted, with a smile.

“She speaks today!” Lexa teased.

“Thank you for noticing!” I exclaimed exaggeratedly. “I’ve been practising.”

“How not to be a dork?”

“Sadly I learnt a long time ago that that’s something you just can’t learn.”

“True,” she said, nodding solemnly. “Being this cool is a curse I’ve carried around with me since birth.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” I lied, laughing.

Suddenly there was a very loud cough to my left, and we both turned to see who had so rudely interrupted us.

“Yes, Jasper?” I said, unimpressed.

“Hm? Oh no, nothing. Just got a bit of a bad cold,” he coughed again for good measure as I rolled my eyes. “Don’t mind me; go ahead and continue your conversation with…?”

“Lexa,” she supplied, directing a half-confused, half-amused look my way as I scoffed.

“Very nice to meet you Lexa,” he said, sticking out his hand.

“What are you, a fifty-year-old man trying to close a business deal?” I asked incredulously, swatting his hand away before Lexa had time to react. “Put your hand away, you idiot.”

“I was just trying to make Lexa here feel welcome,” he said unfazed.

“Well I feel most welcome, thank you Jasper,” Lexa bantered.

“You’re very welcome,” he joked, prompting a laugh from Lexa and a groan from me. Jasper’s face broke out into a smug grin at having made her laugh and, as I looked between the two, I started to feel slightly panicked at the idea that his “charm” might actually work. It had been known to happen before, after all – albeit rarely. So what if it happened again?

But wait… why did I care? I’d already acknowledged that Lexa was “insanely hot” as Jasper had put it, so I should be rooting for Jasper.

And she seemed nice and funny and intelligent and cool and athletic and interesting and-

Not that I had thought about it that much or anything.

But anyone in his or her right mind would be able to see that Jasper would be lucky to date someone like Lexa. Un-fucking-believably lucky.

So why couldn’t I bring myself to root for him on this?

“So, Lexa-“ Jasper began, but at that moment Miss Melville walked in and mercifully cut him, and my mounting irritation, short.

“I’ll see you guys later,” Lexa said, smirking at me before she turned and walked to her seat. For a split second I worried that she may have detected my irritation, but I was confident that my mask hadn’t slipped and took comfort in the knowledge that she seemed to smirk at me often; something I sort of loved.

“Oh, I’m so in there,” Jasper said arrogantly, watching her walk away. I glared at him as I felt my annoyance rising again. It continued to rise for the rest of the period as I unsuccessfully tried to ignore Jasper and his evaluation of Lexa’s hotness. An evaluation that eventually concluded with Lexa being in the top 5 hottest girls in school, which I instantly bristled at. There was zero doubt in my mind that she clinched the top spot without any viable challengers.

As the bell rang signalling the end of the day, I turned to see that Jasper had already packed up his things and was out of his chair in seconds, making a beeline for Lexa. I gritted my teeth and hurriedly packed up my own things, joining him mid-sentence.

“…and Clarke tells me you’re a cheerleader,” he said.

“No I didn’t-“ I protested, but he quickly cut me off.

“You know, I was thinking of joining the cheerleading squad,” he said thoughtfully.

“Oh really?” Lexa asked, still packing up her things. “I didn’t peg you for the cheerleading type.”

“I could say the same thing about you,” he replied, smirking.

“And what makes you think I’m not the cheerleading type?”

“I don’t know, you seem… different.”

“Different to what?” She asked, as she stood up from her table.

“You know, like, the stereotypical cheerleader. Just… a bit… blonde.”

I smirked as she narrowed her eyes slightly, clearly not impressed by his answer. There was a pause as she slung her backpack over her shoulder and we started to walk out of the class. Eventually, Jasper caught on to the fact that he had put his foot in it slightly:

“No! I didn’t mean it like that,” he said hurriedly. “That’s not how I think of cheerleaders. I’m just saying that’s the stereotypical representation of them. But to be clear: I don’t think of cheerleaders that way at all. I love cheerleaders. They’re, like, my favourite things in the world actually.”

“Ignore him,” I laughed. “He has a tendency to speak without thinking. But he means well.”

“It’s fine; I don’t actually care. And I get it all the time anyway,” she said, smiling reassuringly at a worried Jasper. “Besides, I’m flattered that you don’t think I’m ‘blonde’.”

“Well I’m not flattered that you apparently use ‘blonde’ as a synonym for brainless, to be honest,” I accused him, gesturing to my hair.

“Oh, sorry! How inconsiderate of me,” he gasped exaggeratedly, clutching at his chest in mock-horror. “I’ll make sure to use your actual name in future.”

I scowled, hitting him on the back of the head as Lexa laughed. “Don’t laugh!” I said, flicking her arm. “You’re reinforcing bad behaviour.”

“I think the damage has been done in terms of that,” she chuckled as we reached the sophomore lockers.

“Yep. The only cure now for my bad behaviour is punishment,” Jasper said in a low voice, smirking at Lexa.

“Oh my god,” I groaned.

“Wow,” Lexa said simultaneously, grimacing.

“I cannot believe you just said that. Did he really just say that?” I asked Lexa incredulously.

“He really just said that.”

“You really just said that,” I said to Jasper.

“Oh come on, I was joking,” he said, his cheeks reddening.

“No. That was the worst thing I have ever heard you say.”

“Stop overreacting,” he muttered.

“Nope. Not overreacting. You are, quite possibly, the most embarrassing human being I have ever met,” I said dazedly. Lexa was laughing quietly behind a fist that she had brought up to her mouth, a grimace still on her face.

“Right. Well let’s just forget I ever said anything,” Jasper said, trying to play it cool.

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget that,” I said, Lexa and I both openly laughing now.

“Whatever. It isn’t that funny,” he grumbled as Lexa and I continued to laugh harder at his palpable embarrassment.

“I’m gonna have to tell Octavia that you said that,” I said as we eventually stopped laughing.

“What! Why? I’m embarrassed enough, for fuck’s sake,” he panicked.

“Well how else can we give you your proper… punishment,” I teased with a smoulder, to which Lexa and I descended into giggles again.

“Hilarious,” Jasper deadpanned. “I think I’ll be off now.”

“Wait, no! I’m sorry,” I said through a laugh, grabbing him by the arm as he began to walk away. “I’m done. I swear.” He gave me a sceptical look before I continued; “Honestly. I’ll be good,” I said innocently. “Unlike you, you bad, bad boy.”

“Ok! I’m going home,” he said, walking away from our laughter and my weak apologies, muttering about us being childish.

“Were we a bit harsh?” Lexa asked, still grinning.

“Nah, he doesn’t actually care. He knows he would’ve been ten times worse if I’d have said that.”

“Oh, so Jasper’s stolen one of your usual lines, then?”

“No way. I’m far smoother than that,” I said, quirking an eyebrow. “Jasper could learn a thing or two from me.”

“Smooth? I don’t know about that; I don’t think ‘smooth’ and ‘dork’ can ever go hand-in-hand.”

“Well clearly I’m living proof that they can,” I quipped.

“Hmm… I think the jury’s still out on that one.”

“No, I’m pretty sure the jury’s in.”

“The jury is in? You’re sure the jury’s in?”

“The verdict,” I corrected, as she laughed. “I obviously meant the verdict.”

“Right,” she smirked.

There was a pause as we simply stood grinning at each other, and the current running through me spiked as we were surrounded by an energy that I had never felt before with any other person. The way we were able to spar with each other so effortlessly felt as though we weren’t only on the same page at every point, but on the same line. This charged look was exciting and it was new and different but, as was common with Lexa, it was overwhelming. And I would have broken the eye contact after a few seconds were it not for her doing it first, as something behind me caught her attention and her grin dulled slightly.

“Boo!” Bellamy exclaimed, grabbing me by the tops of my arms. I jumped a mile in the air as I turned and jabbed him in the stomach out of instinct.

“Jesus, Bell!” I scolded as he clutched at his middle. “You scared the shit out of me, you idiot.”

“Sorry,” he grunted, still in some pain. “That’s definitely not how I expected that to go.”

“Yeah… Remind me not to get on your bad side,” Lexa chuckled from behind me. I turned to see a mildly surprised look on her face, with some of the brightness returned to her grin.

“Well this idiot should have already known that that wouldn’t end well for him,” I said, rolling my eyes as I squeezed his arm affectionately. “Sorry for punching you, though.”

“It’s fine,” he laughed. “At least I don’t have to worry about you protecting yourself.”

“That should never have been a worry in the first place,” I said smugly.

“Of course. My bad,” he said ruffling my hair and putting his arm over my shoulders. I hated it when he did that. It always made me feel like he was claiming me, as “his”, and I had never been good at accepting that I was anyone’s.

“You remember Lexa, right? From Friday?” I asked Bellamy, as I turned to open my locker as a way of getting out from under his arm. For some reason I was feeling particularly uncomfortable with it in that moment and welcomed the opportunity for a surreptitious escape.

“Oh right, yeah,” he smiled, nodding. “Sorry if I was an asshole. You’ve probably heard that I’m not the greatest guy to be around after a loss.”

“What?! You? No!” I gasped sarcastically. “You’re a ray of sunshine; a blooming flower; a-”

“Ok, ok, we get it,” he cut in, rolling his eyes and turning to Lexa again. “So, yeah… sorry if I was a dick.”

“You were fine,” she smiled politely. “Don’t worry about it.”

“And where’s my apology for you being a dick?” I asked incredulously.

“So how do you two know each other again?” Bellamy asked Lexa, ignoring me with an amused smile.

“Through Octavia. We sit next to each other in a couple classes.”

“French,” I said immediately, without thinking. I felt my face heat up slightly as Lexa looked at me with a somewhat confused look, and I quickly turned back to my locker.

“Right,” she said, after a pause and sounding amused. “French being one of them.”

“Ah, the language of love,” Bellamy joked, wistfully. “I can’t imagine O’s any good at that,” he chuckled.

“You’re one to talk,” I scoffed.

“Well maybe I should get Lexa here to teach me a couple things,” he said flirtatiously, grabbing me by the waist and turning me around from my locker. I looked at Lexa quickly to find that she had adverted her gaze in embarrassment, her cheeks faintly pink and a slight grimace on her face.

“Bell,” I warned, pushing him away in embarrassment. “Cut out the PDA, you know I hate it. Sorry, Lexa.”

“No, it’s fine, really. Young love, right?” She said rather awkwardly, averting her gaze again.

“Right...” I nodded, returning the awkwardness. Bellamy took my hand, intertwining our fingers, as he remained oblivious to the uncomfortable shift in atmosphere. Lexa’s gaze quickly shot to the action, to my face and away again. It was a fleeting few seconds that served only to add to my awkwardness and I was incredibly confused as to why. Bellamy and I hadn’t done anything unusual. This is just what couples do. This is what we do.

“Well I’d better be off. Cheerleading practice,” she explained.

“Be careful,” I said seriously. “I hear that stereotypes are contagious these days.”

“So I’ve heard. I already know of a few blondes who have become totally brainless.”

“So many fallen comrades,” I said, shaking my head sombrely. “It’s a good thing I’m immune.”

Just like that the awkwardness had vanished and we stood grinning at each other again as Bellamy looked between us, his brow furrowed slightly. Lexa coughed and looked away.

“I’ll see you guys later,” she said, putting her hand up in a wave before turning around to walk away.

“Lexa, wait!” Bellamy called and Lexa turned back to us. “I’m hosting a party this Friday after the game. You’re obviously invited, being on the cheerleading squad and all. And being a friend of Clarke’s.”

“Oh right,” she said, seeming unsure. She looked to me, perhaps to gauge my reaction, perhaps in a silent question.

“Yeah, definitely!” I exclaimed excitedly. I caught myself quickly however, settling on a smile as I continued in a more restrained manner.

“I mean, at the very least it’ll give you a chance to get to know more people.”

“True,” she agreed and, after a pause; “Sure; I’d love to come. Thank you.”

“Great!” Bellamy smiled good-naturedly, like the big puppy he often was.

“Anyway, I’d really better be off,” Lexa said, pointing a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the gym.

“Yeah. Right. Sorry for keeping you,” I smiled. She smiled back playfully. It was one of her bright ones. The ones that made her eyes dance with unspoken wisdom yet mischief, and I longed to know what she was thinking.

She turned and walked away and I watched her until she turned the corner as Bellamy continued speaking to me and I grunted out a few replies. I was utterly captivated by her, and the bubble of excitement within me at the thought of being able to talk to her more at Bellamy’s party was slowly growing. It was an excitement at the thought of learning more about her; of gaining an insight into her mind; of understanding this girl who seemed almost as unreadable as my carefully constructed and impenetrable surface. It was an excitement at solving the mystery.

It was such a desperate excitement to solve the mystery that I had scarcely felt so determined about anything in my life, until that point. With hindsight I now know why: for you see, if I learnt more about her, if I gained an insight into her mind, if I solved the mystery… that would be it. My interest in her would wane; the electric current would diffuse. Lexa Woods would no longer be an unsettling diversion in my steady, safe life. She would no longer make me question things about myself that I had been so sure of up until that look in the parking lot. She would no longer add fuel to the fire that so unwelcomingly illuminated the darkest depths of my mind, where the unwanted thoughts and emotions prowled.

Lexa Woods would be just another girl.

And so would I be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Just wanted to quickly apologise for taking so long to update... I've been super busy with Uni, and essays, and just the general stress of life tbh. Hopefully I can get the next chapter out quicker!
> 
> Also, I've published this story on FanFiction.net as well, under the username 'potterfan757'. So if you're enjoying this and maybe wanted to go over to FanFiction and give it a favourite and/or a follow, then that would be awesome :) if not then that's also awesome... I'm just glad you're reading this, really.
> 
> See you next time!
> 
> Love, clexafitch xxx


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